


Means Which Have Never Yet Been Experienced

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Mentions of past abuse, Pre-Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, basically just zevran's backstory, mentions of past sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sereda notices that the newest member of her team is in pain, and she checks out his injuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Means Which Have Never Yet Been Experienced

It’s only because Sereda is keeping a close eye on Zevran that she even notices that anything is wrong.  She doesn’t know what to make of the newest member of her rapidly expanding team.  Sure, he tried to kill her, but apart from that he seems alright and she finds herself laughing at his jokes and flirtations.  It could all be an act to fool her, though by now she’s determined that at least it’s not an act so he can kill her.

So she keeps an extra eye on him (not that watching such an attractive person is a huge burden) and that’s the only reason why she notices that he’s in pain.  Zevran is holding his arm at an odd angle and he shies away whenever Valda barks or tries to play.  There’s a sheen of sweat covering his much too pale face.  

Sereda doesn’t want to call attention to the fact that he might be hurt in front of everyone, so she calls for lunch a little early.  When they stop, she quietly pulls Zevran to the side.

“What’s wrong?” Sereda asks.  

Zevran smiles a little too wide, the kind of smile that would fool her if she wasn’t watching for it.  “What could be wrong when I am the humble servant of such a beautiful woman?”

“Zevran, you’re in pain,” Sereda says.  “I can tell.”

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” Zevran says.

“You’ve been holding your arm strangely all day.  Please let me take a look,” Sereda says.

Zevran’s eyes widen in apparent panic.  “If you must.”

Sereda pats a log, gesturing to Zevran.  “Sit down and take your shirt off.”

His laughter rings hollow as he listens to her.  “Ah, I knew you were attracted to me.  I am too beautiful for my own good, but I will admit, I thought it would take longer than a few days before we reached this stage.”

It’s not particularly difficult to diagnose his dislocated shoulder, and she looks at him in exasperation.  

“When did this happen?  Are you okay?” Sereda asks, concerned.  They haven’t seen darkspawn or bandits for hours now.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I can barely feel it,” Zevran says, apparently finding it difficult to look her in the eye.  “I was going to slip it into place myself, but I simply have not bothered yet.”

“Do you want help?  I always find it’s easier when someone else does it,” Sereda says.

Zevran looks like he wants to argue, but he just droops a little and nods.  “Of course.  Do what you want.”

“This is going to hurt, but I’ve done this plenty of times.  I mean, never to anyone who isn’t a dwarf, but a shoulder joint is a shoulder joint, right?” Sereda says.  

“Yes,” Zevran says with a nod.  He leans back and grits his teeth.  “Go ahead.”

Sereda tries to ignore just how warm his skin is under her fingers as she gets ready to put his shoulder back into his joint.  She counts down to three and pops it in, wincing at the sound of Zevran grunting in pain.  

“Sorry,” Sereda says, distracting herself by looking at the tattoos adorning his body.  She needs to remind herself of where she is, or else she’ll get sucked into memories of doing this for her brothers and vice-versa when they trained together.  

“A little pain enhances the pleasure, yes?” Zevran says, still not looking at her.

Zevran tries to get up, but Sereda puts a hand on his good shoulder.  He sinks back down on the log, and he finally looks at her.  She’s shocked to find that he looks more scared than in pain.  

“Don’t the Antivan Crows teach their recruits how to take care of a dislocated shoulder?  You’ll need to keep that arm in a sling for at least a week, unless we run into a healer,” Sereda says, frowning a little.  

“I do not have anything that could be used as a sling,” Zevran says with false casualness.  “Besides, with a sling, I will be much less useful in battle.”

“Zevran, your shoulder was just dislocated.  You’re not fighting for the next week unless something very dire happens.  Like, the archdemon swoops out of the sky,” Sereda says dryly.  “And don’t worry, I must have something to use as a sling.”

“I can still fight,” Zevran says quickly.  

Sereda shakes her head, squeezing his good arm comfortingly.  “Wait here and put your shirt on.  I’ll be right back.” 

She walks the short distance back to camp and digs into her pack.  She knows she has to have something that’ll keep Zevran at least a little more comfortable and let his shoulder heal.  Finally, she finds a pair of pants that are too long for her anyway.  It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.

Zevran is hunched over when Sereda returns to him, her pants in hand.  He sits up straight as she gets nearer, turning to face her with a too bright smile on his face.

“I don’t have anything better than this, sorry.  The Wardens didn’t bother to equip us before being slaughtered at Ostagar,” Sereda says.  Hopefully she sounds less traumatized by the whole ordeal than she feels.  “These pants probably smell pretty bad, but it’s better than your shoulder falling out of place again.”

“It is more than enough, Warden.  Do not worry,” Zevran says.  “I will admit, this is not how I wanted to get in your pants, but it is a start.”

Sereda snorts and gets to work.  Her fingers aren’t as nimble as his probably are, but she knows what she’s doing, so she can work with confidence.  “I’m surprised you didn’t make a joke about me tying you up.”

“I was saving it.  This seems like a good week to have plenty of charm,” Zevran says.  

“Why?” Sereda asks, fingers brushing against his neck.  

Zevran doesn’t answer, but Sereda takes a moment to study his body language.  From her vantage point, she can’t see his face, but his whole body is stiff.  It’s then she realizes that he’s trying to pay attention to her even more than she’s paying attention to him.  

Sereda finishes with the sling, coming around in front of him to give him a once over.  At least he looks less in pain now.  Then again, he seems pretty good at hiding such things.  

“How does that feel?  Too tight?” Sereda asks.

“You are quite talented with your hands,” Zevran says, getting up.  “And I assure you, I am an excellent armor polisher, even with only one fully functioning arm.”

Sereda gently pulls him back down again.  “I want to talk to you.”

Zevran swallows hard.  “Okay.”

“You don’t have to worry that you’re going to be punished or forced to leave just because you got hurt.  Just tell me about it.  I’d much rather know and give you a chance to recover than risk you getting hurt more,” Sereda says.  “I’m not going to hold it against you.”

Zevran watches her critically, like he’s trying to find a sign that she’s lying.  “I have been here for less than a week, and given the dirty looks your companions keep shooting me, I did not make a good first impression.”

“And since then, I’ve given you plenty of chances to try to kill me.  Some, so obvious that I know you must have known what I was doing, and some that I wouldn’t have been able to stop if I was wrong to trust you,” Sereda says.  “I’m still alive.”

“That is quite the gamble,” Zevran says.  

Sereda shrugs, swallowing hard.  She can’t admit that part of her had hoped that Zevran would kill her in her sleep.  No more watching helplessly as everyone dies, no more manipulative brothers, and fathers who let her die rather than try to help.  No more being the casteless exile on the surface, considered by most people she grew up with to be less than nothing.  Her spirit might wander lost forever if she dies on the surface, but somehow that feels better than trying to exist as she is, so alone in this blindingly bright world.  

“It had to be done because I don’t have time to waste looking over my back to see if you’re about to bury a knife in it,” Sereda says.  “And now that I know that you’re not trying to kill me, I don’t have to waste time distrusting you more than I distrust anyone else.”

“Are you always so forgiving of people who try to kill you?” Zevran asks.

Sereda thinks about the hot pit of rage that burns in her stomach whenever she thinks about how Bhelen manipulated them all and the way her father abandoned her to death in the Deep Roads.  She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forgive either of them; she’s not interested in forgiveness for them, anyway.  

“Nope,” Sereda says, letting the word pop and burst in her mouth.  She shakes her head to shake off the sudden exhaustion that’s swept over her.  “Just take care of that shoulder, okay?  I’ll try to find a healer or some potions or at least an actual sling when we find a village, but we don’t have much coin or much to trade with.”

At times like this, Sereda misses being a princess.  She’s used to having all the resources to take care of her people that she could possibly need.  They could always resort to stealing, but she doesn’t want to go there if they can avoid it.  

“I will,” Zevran says.  “Thank you.”

Sereda smiles tightly and returns to the rest of the group.

* * *

Zevran watches Sereda walk away, trying to process what just happened.  He can still feel her fingers brushing against his skin as she took care of him.  Stubby, calloused, rough fingers tying a ragged pair of pants to help support his arm.  

It’s a stark contrast to the last injury he sustained, where his fellow Crow berated him for his stupidity while forcing him to stitch himself up.  More than once, injuries with the Crows had been accompanied by slaps and mocking, from masters as well as other assassins.

He was supposed to die on this mission at the hands of the legendary Grey Wardens.  That was the plan.  

Waking up to see a beautiful woman looking down at him with weary resignation had not been part of his plan.  Neither was her actually letting him live and travel with her.  The attempts to bargain for his life had been mere formality, and he handed over the information because the Crows didn’t deserve loyalty.

Living put him in an even worse position, honestly.  Zevran had counted on the Wardens killing him quickly, but if the Crows got him, they would kill him slowly and publicly.  As much as Zevran wants to be dead, he wants it to happen quick.  Maybe he doesn’t deserve that much, not after Rinna, but he doesn’t want to be tortured to death.  

So he has to make sure that he remains perpetually useful to the Warden, lest she decide to cast him out.  She’s his best chance to avoid torture, unless she decides to torture him herself..

Zevran had figured that not being able to fight would drastically decrease his usefulness, so he came up with a few other ways that he could keep her favor, but it doesn’t seem to matter to her.  

In retrospect, he’s glad he didn’t lead with offering to warm her bed.  Yes, he would enjoy sleeping with her far more than many of his other marks, and yes, he is certain that she would be much more considerate lover than some of the people he’s had to sleep with to fulfill a contract.  

However, he suspects that she would have been horrified by the suggestion.  She seemed horrified enough that he felt he had to earn his keep, even though she went out of her way to take care of him.

This kindness of hers has to be hiding something.  Zevran has no idea what, but he does know that he’s scared of it.  He’s used to being a tool for someone else, and he knows how to eke out a living regardless.  It’s comfortable and familiar, in a way.  

But Sereda could be a whole different kind of monster, the kind that lulls before striking, and Zevran isn’t going to fall for it.  She could be a horror worse than any that he’s ever encountered.  He will not trust or relax around this woman.

Yet… there’s something in her he recognizes.  She seemed disappointed that he didn’t betray her trust.  Like she wishes she was dead, too.  Zevran doesn’t know what to make of his observation, but he secrets the knowledge away, fairly certain that no one else has seen this tidbit of Sereda.

Later, Alistair asks a question about the pants, Zevran makes a joke about Sereda tying him up that goes over his head, and Sereda laughs.  They share a genuine smile, just for the briefest moment, and Zevran wonders what else is in store for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get the notion of Sereda taking care of Zevran and Zevran just being totally suspicious of this kindness out of my head. Especially within the first few days, before Zevran got to really see her in action.


End file.
